


Earn Your Treat

by QuillMind



Category: Drifters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Cigarettes, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff, Other, Reader-Insert, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:46:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8676895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillMind/pseuds/QuillMind
Summary: Butch Cassidy is really craving a cigarette.  You just happen to have some.  What is he willing to do to get one from you?





	

Through blurry vision, you saw sunlight poking through the green canopy of the forest.  Leaves randomly fluttered away from their branches when small animals scampered over them, and birds chirped from invisible vantage points.  They were the only witnesses to what you were up to. 

Groaning, you leaned back against the giant tree you had been standing by.  The rigid, tough bark made a decent surface to grip for support, something you very much required.  It was not enough to prevent your tremors and the shifting of your feet on the forest floor, though. 

"Not bad for an outlaw," you sighed, feeling the constrictive nature of your clothes as you breathed deep and hard, "but it's going to take a little more than that to finish me off." 

Butch Cassidy paused from his task to raise an indignant eyebrow at you, but his roguish grin never left his face. 

"If you actually thought I was done," he said, "I feel sorry for your life up until now."  Using his hand to push back your folds, he then pushed his index finger straight up into your channel. 

The stubborn, competitive part of you didn't want him to see victory so easily, so you closed your eyes to deny him your pleasured reaction, but that didn't stop the quick gasp that shot out from your mouth.  Beneath your waist, between your legs, you could feel the gunman's trigger finger wiggling around inside like an independent living thing, pushing and prodding against your walls.

Your arrival to this strange new world had been made a little easier, arguably, by quickly landing in the company of the Octobrists. It was strange enough to suddenly be in a world where dragons, magic, and fantastical races existed, but somehow you were more stunned to be surrounded by historical figures like Hannibal Barca, Scipio Africanus, And Sundance Kid.  Admittedly there was very little you knew of Abe no Haruakira, but you were happy that at least he and his group meant you no harm, and he was able to explain the situation to you.  

Your encounter with Butch Cassidy had been another matter.  Before you had even been introduced, you felt drawn to this man, and it was not long before it became clear that the feeling was mutual.  With his unruly dark hair and penetrating green gaze, you saw a man who, despite being long-dead before your time, was immeasurably and uncontrollably alive.  Whenever he looked at you, which was increasingly often as the days went on, you felt stripped naked and consumed--and loved every second of it.  

The pumping of Butch's finger was wonderful already, and it only got better when he sent in his middle finger as well with a wet squelching sound.  

"Look at that face of yours," Butch said, widening his eyes to capture more of the vision before him. "Better not go around letting anyone else see it--I don't think I have enough bullets to shoot every man in Orte!"

You had to keep your voice down.  Kid wasn't too far away, and those other new Drifters that you had met last night--the pretty archer, the hotheaded warrior and the sleazy, long-haired man--were close as well.  You were open to a lot of things, but interruptions was not one of them, and you doubted Butch would take kindly to a sudden audience.  

The moment Butch lowered himself to start licking at you clit, however, keeping the silence became a hell of a lot more challenging, and you barely managed to compromise your volume control by breaking away some of the hard bark with your fists.  The tree's surface scraped your skin, and bits of debris sprinkled into your hair from your head grinding back, but these were minor inconveniences at best considering what was happening. 

The rickety state of your legs had Butch casting a quick glance up at you.  "Hey, keep it steady there.  You want me to do my job right, don't you?"  His words were distorted on account of having your clit in his mouth, but you understood well enough.  Still, easier said than done.  Given the way his hand and mouth were going, you considered it impressive that you hadn't collapsed onto the grass yet. 

With a grunt, Butch lifted one of your legs off of the ground, holding the thigh in his hand while he dove back in like his life depended on drinking up all of your juices.  Your toes and fingers curled painfully and your hips rolled against the outlaw's face, a wordless plea for more, faster, harder. 

The proud laugh Butch made was borderline silly when paired with the slurping and sucking sounds, not that that deterred him from it in the least. 

You were thankful for that--both his dedication to your pleasure, and to hear his voice at any opportunity.  Butch thought nothing of shooting down enemies, and was more likely to do so when in a bad mood, but there was a jovial side to him too, and when he did laugh, he did so heartily and without reservation, like a boy rather than the man that he was. 

As your squirming was reaching concerning levels, he pulled back and let his thumb tag in where his tongue had been.  "Oh?  Looks like you're ready to blow, huh," he mumbled, crudely licking his shining lips clean.  He waited for you to make a snide remark, but none came; your voice was only committed to making wanton moans and reedy cries. 

So much the better, Butch thought.  If you were still able to talk, it meant he wasn't doing a good enough job. 

With break time over, his tongue went back to work.  A third finger dove into your slit, and now the trio curled at an angle so as to stimulate a specific spot within.  The chaos that he created with his pistols paralleled the havoc he was wreaking on your nervous system, and it was getting hot, so very hot, unbearably so-- 

A crazed wail entered your ears, and a fracture part of your mind registered that it had come from you.  You bowed at the waist, grabbing Butch's thick hair and pulling tight as a means of keeping you from falling apart.  As violently as you trembled, Butch stayed secure and still, and he lessened the speed of his mouth and hand gradually, withdrawing only once you stopped moving and your grip loosened. 

"Like a stick of dynamite," he snickered. 

Pushing you back up so that you leaned on the tree, he put your leg back through the leg hole of your pants, which had been forgotten around your ankles this whole time.  With silent encouragement, he slid your bottoms back up onto your hips again, leaving you to close them at the waist.  You knew he was doing this as a cherry on the top to earn points with you, but you were happy for it nonetheless. 

"So, I'm pretty sure that was good enough, wasn't it?" he said smugly while holding his hand out.  The one that had been getting well-acquainted with your insides, he brought up to lick clean.  He smirked as he saw the action get the desired response from you.  "Enough to earn a cigarette?" 

Wiping sweat away from your brow, you chuckled tiredly and reached into your shirt to pull out a single Mild Seven Original.  " _Easily_ enough," you admitted.

You had hardly expected the cigarettes to get any use when you first got them.  Your coworker and his girlfriend had been trying to quit, but he had caved to his addiction and bought another "absolutely last one" pack, only to hurriedly give them to you to hide when his girlfriend unexpectedly showed up.  After you had landed in this world, you'd rediscovered the Mild Sevens during a search through your belongings for anything useful for survival, which sent the gears turning in your head to approach Butch with the very coquettish question of, _"Hey, Butch, what would you be willing to do for a cigarette?"_                        

Butch took the white stick from your hand, but made a face as he inspected it.  "The hell is this?" he sneered, pointing to the white end. 

You frowned as you rearranged your clothes and pulled your shoes on.  "What, that?  That's the filter." 

 _"Filter?"_   Butch said the word like it was the most egregious of profanities.

"Ohhh, right," you said as the realization sunk in, "I guess filtered cigarettes didn't exist in your day yet...  They make them that way to reduce health risks." 

"Health risks?"  Butch snorted disdainfully as he pinched the cigarette between his lips and pulled out a match.  "What good is it worrying so much about the future?" he muttered, cradling the match flame from the breeze as he lit the thin stick.  "Especially here, where I've got dragons and crazy magical warriors and shit to worry about.  I'll be damned if a cigarette's what does me in." 

Despite his complaining, Butch had a look of unadulterated euphoria wash over him as he took his first drag, slowly exhaling the grey smoke from his mouth like he was regretful to let it go.  As a non-smoker yourself, you couldn't really understand the appeal of cigarettes, but you did sympathize a little with craving something that you had slim to little chance of finding.  You felt the same way about hot running water and chocolate. 

"Well, it's not exactly the same, but way better than nothing," he finally said.  "Thanks for this."  He said your name  with a laugh and you knew you wanted to hear him say it again and again, in different tones, including one where he was breathless and underneath you.  That thought reminded you to sneak a peek downwards; there was an obvious protrusion straining against his pants. 

"We should head back--Kid and those other folks are gonna start wondering where we went.  Come on." 

Without waiting for your reply, Butch snatched your hand and started walking towards the exit of the forest.  His old cloak flowed back over his shoulders to conceal his body; no one would be privy to the same information you'd just gained. 

Just short of the forest clearing, a sudden extreme close-up of Butch's face made you freeze in your tracks and nearly squeal from shock.  Then his face puffed and he broke into a fit of laughter. 

"You looked so scared right there!" he guffawed, the tiny cherry of his cigarette glowing brightly.  "What're you looking so down for, huh?" 

"Nothing!" you snapped, feeling like he had somehow known you were thinking about him in such a way.  True, the offer had only been to please _you_ in exchange for a cigarette, but you couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that he didn't want to go further. 

Butch pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and expelled a hazy cloud.  He leaned into an intimate space with you, and though his voice was still light with leftover chuckles, it quickly took a turn for bedroom-worthy purr. 

"Get back to smiling, sugar, 'cause that's when you're at your best--well, second best.  And then maybe later, I can ask you to do something for _me_ , right?" 

You used to worry so much about the future, about careful planning and preparation for things to come.  Those cigarettes wouldn't last forever.  The Ends might catch and kill you one day.  Even if you and the Octobrists did defeat the Black King, there was still the question of whether it was possible for you to return to your own time and resume your life as normal. 

But to hell with all that.  You'd fallen for a train robber.  His devil-may-care nature was rubbing off on you. 

A sensual smile formed on your lips.  "Of course."

There was the flash of a toothy grin as Butch grabbed your face to kiss your lips.  The sharp taste of nicotine was unfamiliar and bitter to you, but a fair price to pay considering the reward.  His face beaming with triumph, the gunman whipped out one of his revolvers and fired a couple of shots into the air, howling laughter along with the deafening booms. 

Even when Kid could be heard yelling _"Goddammit, stop wasting bullets!"_ in the distance, Butch's smile was immovable, and his hand remained holding yours. 

You knew nothing of tomorrow, but today was great. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's really easy to forget that apparently Butch in the manga/anime is still supposed to be the age that he was when he died (42), considering he looks like he's still in his 20s. Also, quite unfortunate that the real Butch was not an attractive man at all. ¯_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
